By Bambootiger Within my winter, my dear love, I could see naught, but a shadow, The fog of it across my heart Turned to sparrow gray, my fields of snow. Then I was changed, though I not know how, I know why I will not forget, For I treasure you as the sun, and to me, The first day of spring was the day we met. Time will change us all; The stream erodes this fragile form, each day, And yet within, my dear love, within, and by each hour of light, You grow more endearing, in a more endurable way, And where now we stand in time, I love you more, even than when you were my bride, For, with each year we share, you are ever my dear love, and more beautiful inside. Take this cover, of the pages of my years, Touch the letters, thread worn now with age, When you, my dear love, read the words within, See my thoughts of you on every page, And should I ever take my leave from life, And you, should carry on, my dear love, Then whatever we were, or had together, You will carry on the best part of.
Copyright © 1996 - 2004 Boomers International™,
All rights reserved.
Webpage Designed & Maintained by JTMaier ASSOCIATES
Poem may be used with proper credits to the author.